« Spanking Stories

« Amy, Christina and Bianca


22. Apology

Spanking Story


Wrongly blaming her friend for a mistake, a stewardess is caned for her rush to judgement

«Beginning Part 23»

The silver cutlery sparkled in the candlelight on the aft deck dining table, every knife, fork and spoon in the precise position it should be. Even the crystal wine glasses would have played a symphony if tapped.

Francesca and her friends sat around the table. Five or six years younger than Amy and Bianca, their age was irrelevant. The job was to serve them with distinction. Francesca had always been lovely to the crew. Everyone took pleasure in looking after her and making her, and her friends, happy.

Perfection took planning. They'd laid out the dinner plates in the galley so the pattern matched the table for efficient service.

Bianca was liaising with chef tonight. The plates were in two lines on the far surface. Amy took the first four, Bianca the next two and their boss the last three.

On the aft deck, they placed the plates in the same order on the side table. Each took a plate and placed it in front of the correct guest. They repeated the smooth exercise until they'd served everyone.

"I ordered lobster," said a blond on the far side of the table.

"And I asked for the pork," said the guy beside her.

"Swap?" she said.

They swapped plates with little fuss, but the error embarrassed Amy. She withdrew and followed her crew mates down to the galley.

"What order did you put the plates in?" she said to Bianca. The criticism in her voice was apparent to all.

"The right order. They all had the correct garnish on them so I knew which was which before we plated."

"Except you didn't," Amy said. "You were chef liaison. Liaise!" Their public incompetence had pissed her off.

"I did. This is not my first rodeo."

Their boss looked on, unimpressed by the error, and even less impressed by her quarreling team. "Bianca, ensure the guests are happy and top up their drinks."

The chef came back from the head; there were few breaks during dinner service, he had to grab the chance when he could.

"What?" he asked, seeing the irritated stews standing in his galley.

"The plates were in the wrong order," Amy snapped, "Bianca made us look like amateurs."

"Which ones?" he asked.

"These two," Amy said, tapping the side where the plates would have been.

The chef went pale. "Ah. It might have been me. I chipped one of those plates with the handle of my knife. I replaced it and the one next to it because I couldn't find where the chip had flown."

The Chief Stew cut in before Amy could berate the chef, and said, "Those were the two plates we got wrong, so it may have been you. Let's all let it go."

"I'm sorry," the chef said. He knew it was a stain on their pride. He turned to Amy, "I'm sorry. Please forgive me."

She softened. She'd made errors. It wasn't laziness. He'd dealt well with a stressful problem and made a mistake.

"Peace," she said, offering her hand to shake.

The chef took it, grateful for the kindness.

"I think you owe Bianca an apology," her boss said.

Her boss went upstairs to remain available to the guests and sent Bianca back down.

"I'm sorry," Amy told Bianca, the instant her teammate arrived. She explained what had happened.

"And the first thing you did was go off at me," Bianca snapped.

"Sorry," Amy said again. It felt as inadequate as it sounded.

Argument and analysis over, they smiled at the guests and served dessert. The chef hadn't discussed dessert with Francesca. It was pointless. Ever since he'd made her soft pastry apple pie, he'd assured his place in her life. It was all she ever wanted.

The chef checked in with the guests in person, the smiles of all the guests were a deserved reward. He enjoyed cooking for Francesca, even if it had to always be apple pie and her friends were all appreciative too.

The evening service was flawless, but the camaraderie between the stews strained. Amy felt it and knew who was to blame. She should have done a little more research before assigning blame. There was nowhere to run and hide. She had to share a cabin with Bianca tonight.

"You need to sort things out with Bianca before morning," the Chief Stew said as they were putting the last plates in the dishwasher.

"Ma'am, I have no right to ask, but I know how to fix things. Could you excuse me? It won't need all of us to finish up. Most of the guests have gone to bed."

The Chief Stew looked at Amy. It was clear the girl had a plan but couldn't or wouldn't share it. She wanted them harmonious again. Only Amy could put things right. "Okay. But don't go thinking you deserve it."

"I don't. Thank you. I won't forget it. I owe you," Amy said, taking off the apron which protected her formal uniform.

She had about an hour before Bianca would be back in their cabin. She went straight to the bridge. Dan was planning their route for the next day with the Captain. One of the other crew was standing watch.

"Hi Amy," the captain said. "I think we're done here, Dan. I'll see you in the morning."

Her presence had extricated him from the bridge without a word. It was a generous privilege she wouldn't squander. She led the way to his cabin.

He closed the door. "You're not happy. I can tell," he said.

She explained what she'd done, and that Bianca wasn't taking it very well.

"Well, I wouldn't either. It sounds like you flew off the handle at her."

"I did," she said, "I wanted to spend the night with you, but I need to spend time with her and put things right."

"That's okay. I understand."

"I must show her I'm sorry. Saying it wasn't enough. I was judgmental and unkind. At the very least, she deserved the benefit of the doubt. I think it's worse because it was me who got mad at her. Above everyone, I should have her back. I'm her cabin mate."

"Do you need me to punish you? You deserve it."

"Yes," Amy nodded.

"Three strokes of the cane. Hard ones," he said.

"Make it six and on my bare bottom."

"Okay. You're going to be sore tonight."

"I need to be."

"Remove your skirt," he commanded.

His strict voice was the only thing she wanted to hear.

"Bend over and put your hands on the desk."

She obeyed. She needed him to take her in hand. Easing her fingers into the waistband of her panties, she slipped her white cotton bikinis to her ankles. Pooled at her feet, they reminded her how bare she was.

He tapped her bare bottom several times with the cane. Light taps, enough to remind her who was in charge.

"Give me a word, one word to describe yourself tonight," he ordered.


The cane slashed hard into her bare cheeks. She gripped the edge of the desk as a vicious, searing pain stormed through her bare bum. He'd caned her hard.

"Another word, please," he demanded.

She thought. "Mean," she said.

The cane cut a mean line across her bareness, burning disgust with her attitude into her mind as it scorched intense agony into her behind.

"Despicable," she cried, not waiting to be told.

The cane roasted a fire across the middle of her bum, the stroke hard and uncompromising. The ache buried deep in her behind.

"Arrogant," she said, her voice firm.

The cane seared a sizzling line of fire low on her bum. He'd struck her hard. He could use the cane with finesse to cause light sensitive sting or harsh punishing pain. Tonight, it was the latter.

"Selfish," she said.

A line of furious fire leaped across her lowest curves and she cried out in pain.

"Shh," he scolded her, "unless you want the entire crew to know I cane you."

"Sorry," she said, ashamed to have needed telling off during her punishment.

"Last one," he said.

"Not a friend," she said.

"That was three words, but I'll let you have it."

The cane lashed into her soft bottom. A rich eruption of meaningful pain marked her cheeks. It was a cruel stroke on her sensitive skin. With deep pride, she bore her pain. She deserved it.

She leaned forward over his desk, assimilating the storm rushing through her behind. Ashamed, small and sorry, her sex had deserted her. It was only pain for her tonight, just as it should be.

She stood, her bottom in sharp agony as she moved. Reaching for him, she hugged him and thanked him.

While he replaced the cane, she pulled on her skirt, zipping the heat and torment of her hot bottom inside the tight fabric.

Bianca was already in bed reading when Amy reached their cabin.

"Where have you been?" she asked.

Ignoring the question, Amy said, "I'm sorry. I didn't have your back when I should have. Above all else, I'm your friend on this boat. I'm sorry I let you down."

It could be lonely on board. She was lucky. She had Dan. But she'd made Bianca feel unloved and neglected.

"I appreciate the apology. I felt disrespected. Your first thought was to blame me. You hurt me."

"If I could take it back, I would. I wish I could," Amy unzipped her skirt, stepped out of it and removed her blouse. Removing her bra, she placed it on her bunk. In only her white cotton bikini panties, she stood looking up at Bianca on her top bunk. They locked eyes. Amy put her fingers into the waistband of her panties and slid them off. Naked, she turned around.

Looking at her roommate in the mirror, she said, "I'm sorry."

"That's a lot of sorry, babe," Bianca said, climbing down in her long white tee and panties to stand beside Amy in their small space.

Amy stayed facing the mirror, letting Bianca see her sore weals.

"Can I feel them?" Bianca asked.

"Yes," Amy said. It was fair humiliation. She wanted the shame of having her punishment inspected to Bianca's satisfaction.

She winced as Bianca ran her fingers along one of her weals. "Oh, babe. I want to say you didn't have to. But you deserved this."

"I did," Amy agreed. She turned to face her friend. "Please forgive me."

"You're forgiven, consider it forgotten" Bianca said, hugging her naked friend. On board, everyone needed a friend.

Amy pulled up her panties and climbed into her bunk. Bianca returned to hers. After a moment, she asked, "Did it turn you on?"

"No. It was pure punishment. I needed to just hurt and feel sorry." She paused. "But now my bum is burning a hole in the sheet, I can't ignore it. It may be the shame of having you see my bottom, but I'm turned on."

Bianca was quiet for a minute. Breathless, she said, "You took the cane for me."

Amy heard the tension in Bianca's voice, no longer the hostility of earlier, but pleasant tension. Turned on by having to expose herself to Bianca's scrutiny, she was hot and desperate. She rubbed her wet clit. "I owed you. Big time. I had to prove I was your friend first and a bitch second." Heat pulsed through her admission, thrusting recognition into her sex.

"You had the bitch thrashed out of you," Bianca agreed. "I'm playing with myself, by the way. Let me tonight."

"I'm already with you," Amy breathed.

"Tell me about it," Bianca begged.

"He ordered me out of my skirt, my uniform skirt. I had to bend over and lean on his small desk."

"In your panties?"

"No. I had to drop them and take my punishment bare."

"Was it shameful?"

"Yes, but I deserved to be ashamed."

"You're a good girl. I bet that hurt."

"It did. He gave me six strokes. They were hard, punishing strokes. He thrashed me."

"He thrashed you, for me."

"Yes. I deserved to get caned."

"You did. You had your attitude caned out of you, thrashed out of you," Bianca panted hard.

"I did. He beat me for my attitude," Amy said.

"Beaten," Bianca cried as the top bunk bounced with her flow of pleasure. Orgasms locked into her and shot down her legs, ripping out any residual angst.

Amy's legs spasmed as her orgasms burst free, launching a cascade of pleasure through her pain. Warm from the flood of gorgeous heat, her pain returned.

"Are you okay?" Amy checked.

"Fuck, yes. You're a loyal friend. I'm so relaxed right now. Oh god, thank you. I needed that."

"I'm sorry about earlier."

"You made up for it. Big time. Thank you for letting me share."

"That's okay. It was nice for me too," Amy said.

"I've never admitted to anyone I liked the idea of being punished," Bianca said. "I'm jealous your bum is sore."

"Don't be. It's going to hurt all tonight."

"I haven't admitted it to myself until now, but I want a man who will punish me. Hard, if needed."

"Loads of girls do. We're far from unusual."

"Really?" Bianca asked, wondering if Scot knew this.

"Yes. I can't ever say who," Amy said. "But I know other girls who get it."

"Thank you for sharing yours with me tonight," Bianca said. "That was one hell of an apology."